


Questions of Competence

by autobotscoutriella



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Adjusting to Earth presumably took a while, Gen, Pre-Canon, technology issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autobotscoutriella/pseuds/autobotscoutriella
Summary: Surviving on Earth requires working with humans, but the Autobots aren't entirely confident in their local guides' abilities.





	Questions of Competence

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [FandomWeekly](https://fandomweekly.dreamwidth.org/218907.html) for the prompt Clear Skies.

Water lapped gently at the shore, waves shimmering silver and blue in the moonlight. Seagulls squawked and scattered away from the approaching vehicle, abandoning their meal of french fries and cardboard to perch on the nearest fence and scream indignantly in the truck's direction. Having no desire to encounter them any closer, Optimus Prime stopped where he was, at the end of the parking lot looking over the ocean.

Earth's skies stretched out to the horizon, dark space scattered with tiny star points. Cybertron's star was hidden by Earth's rotation, but Optimus knew where it was, somewhere on the other side of the murmuring ocean. Human astronomers barely marked it on their maps, if they noticed it at all, but Cybertronian optics could pinpoint it even at such a great distance.

"Prime?" A motorcycle engine rumbled at the parking lot gate. "Optimus, is something wrong?"

Optimus pulled his attention away from the quiet waters with some effort. "Everything is fine, Arcee. Has Agent Fowler made contact yet?"

"Briefly.  He's waiting for intel." Arcee pulled up beside the massive truck,  engine idling. "This planet's information transfer systems aren't the most efficient. The Decepticons could be here before they ever register on those—well, I hesitate to call them systems." It sounded like a quote from Ratchet. Knowing the medic's frustration with Earth's primitive technology, it might very well have been.

"I'm sure Agent Fowler is doing the best he can with what he has." Optimus was not, in fact, sure of that. The human agent had proven trustworthy so far, but as an intelligence operative, he remained an unknown quantity. Between the limitations of organic technology and the humans' inexperience with anything Cybertronian, producing anything that the team could act on was unlikely. But the new groundbridge technology was too easy to track, and even an inadequate search of the area was better than nothing.

Arcee sat quietly for a moment, her dark-clothed holoform frozen in position. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted." It was an unnecessary formality now, on an alien world with the Autobots scattered across the universe, but his team seemed more comfortable with the familiar rituals of command.

"Agent Fowler and his team barely know enough about the war to understand the danger they're in. Is it wise to be trusting our mission—our survival—to these humans?"

It was a question Optimus had given months' worth of thought to. "I believe Agent Fowler is trustworthy."

"But is he competent? And I don't mean by human standards, I mean by ours." Arcee shifted her weight, tires crunching on the pavement. "Can we count on a _human_  when our lives, and the life of this planet, are on the line? I know it's been a long time since we've encountered a Decepticon, but you and I both know they are still out there."

Optimus studied the dark sky, wondering if any of those bright points of light were Decepticon warships rather than stars. That, too, was a thought he had had many times since their arrival. Without adequate technology, and with the vast majority of the planet unaware of the existence of other life, the war could arrive on this planet before its inhabitants even knew it was a possibility. Arcee was right, both about their vulnerability and about their lack of preparation.

It was a fine line between allowing them to develop on their own and protecting them from the war he had brought to their galaxy. Optimus suspected that even if he lived another million years, he would still be wondering if he had found the right balance.

"Agent Fowler is the best option we have at present." It was true, though the list of options was less than ideal, and had been for a long time. "He may be inexperienced, but I believe that if he does not have the skills we need now, he can develop them. We are new to this world, and if we wish to keep our presence a secret from the universe, we will need assistance navigating it."

Silence fell again, broken only by faint chattering and squawking from the seagulls. In the absence of movement from the vehicles, the birds had moved back in, fluttering around the parking lot as comfortably if it was deserted.

"We'll follow your lead, Prime." Despite the pause, there was no doubt in Arcee's words.

Before Optimus could respond, the comm line crackled and screeched with painfully loud static. "Prime? Anybody there? <i>Hello?</i> Is this thing even—"

"Go ahead, Agent Fowler," Optimus interrupted, internally flinching away from the volume. "What has your team discovered?"

"Clear skies and clear roads, Prime. We've sent your tech guy the all-clear and there'll be a bridge coming your way any minute now."

" _Finally_." Arcee performed a neat 180-degree turn without leaving the parking space, and surveyed the lot. "Ratchet, we're ready for that bridge anytime."

The comm line crackled blankly for a few seconds before the medic snapped, "Well?"

"The bridge, Ratchet?" Optimus prompted when no familiar swirl of green appeared in the parking lot.

A muffled curse echoed over the open line, followed by a distant voice that might have been Bulkhead's. "Might be the coordinate problem again, Doc—"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, thank you!" There was a clatter, followed by more static, before Ratchet finally addressed the comm line again. "Your space bridge is just outside the parking lot."

Vehicle mode concealed any amusement either Optimus or Arcee might have shown as they pulled out of the empty lot toward the road.  Only a block off-base was surprisingly accurate, Optimus considered, once the technological limitations were taken into account. Previous computer failures had left the groundbridge anywhere from a mile to several hundred miles away.

"We're on our way."


End file.
